


Maybe, Probably

by evelyn_peirce (evelyn_pierce), evelyn_pierce



Category: Narcos (TV), Pedro Pascal - Fandom, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Historical Inaccuracy, Magic, Only One Bed, Porn With Plot, Romance, Self-Insert, Sex, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelyn_pierce/pseuds/evelyn_peirce, https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelyn_pierce/pseuds/evelyn_pierce
Summary: When your ship wrecks on the coast of some unknown town, you're sure you're about to die. But a kind soul (yes, Pedro), takes you in. Can you hide your past from this gentle man, or will he coax it out of you? ;)If you've ever dreamt of falling in love with Pedro Pascal while also being a cottagecore witch, this is for you. Of course we get spicy.
Relationships: Pedro Pascal/Reader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 41





	1. Prologue

What could you remember? Not much more than a sinking ship and a last-ditch effort to throw yourself overboard before the dying vessel took you with it. The water was freezing cold as you sunk, unable to will your limbs to move, to swim, to find air. 

Something terrible had led to this moment. Pirates, you had thought. Maybe raiders. Your ship carried little of value, though perhaps that had instigated the pirates' wrath. As they departed, taking all the cargo they could, the pirates had blasted a hole in the hull that led to the rapid descent of the Santa Ana, a ship you had called home for the past three weeks. 

It seemed fitting, that nearing your freedom, so close to liberty from your past, fate would strike you dead. Perhaps that's why you didn't struggle to surface, didn't gasp for oxygen. You had accepted your fate. 

But fate didn't accept you. Not quite yet. Two strong arms linked under yours and hauled you above water. By that point, you were unconscious, but you could imagine the rest. Dragged to shore and left there, on the rocky beach, to await your future.

When you awoke, whoever had saved your life would be gone.


	2. Rescued By Fate

"Come on, open your eyes," a gentle voice said, though it seemed disembodied and floating just out of reach. "Can you take a breath for me? Maybe cough?"  
You wanted to. Lord knows you wanted to breathe more than anything in the world. But you couldn't. Your lungs simply wouldn't allow it. "Try again," came the voice.  
Suddenly, lips pressed to yours and blew, filling your lungs and lifting your chest and then-  
You nearly yacked from coughing so much. Saltwater released from your lungs and your eyes opened to the brightness of a new morning. How long had you been laying here? What happened to you?  
And then it all came flooding back, the pirates, the sinking ship, making it to shore. Your body convulsed in the coarse sand, trying to rid you of your guts and the horrifying memories.  
"It's alright, you'll be alright," this time a different voice. Deeper, a bit gruff, but gentle as well. A hand rubbed your back, a blanket was placed around your shoulders, and someone handed you a cup of water. Blinking to adjust to the piercing sunlight, you looked around. An older man who appeared to be a doctor was handing you the water, speaking softly to ease your return to the world of the living. A young woman, not much older than you, seemed to have been the one to place the blanket over you. But who's arms were these? And what mouth had breathed life back into your lungs? The glare of sunlight prevented you from seeing his face and you wanted only in that moment to fall asleep.  
"Let's get her somewhere warm and dry," the doctor said. "Maria, do you have some clean clothes? Get her changed and next to a fire. She needs sleep more than anything."  
And sleep you did.  
When you awoke next, it was nighttime. You were in a bed, someone's bed, wrapped tightly in blankets and somehow in a clean shift. At the end of the bed sat a figure, large and enshrouded in shadows, though his face glowed an orange red in the blazing fire.  
It was hot. Too hot. You wanted to kick off the covers but could do little more than thrash weakly in the sheets. Noticing your movement, the man stood and moved beside the bed, helping to resituate the covers and trying to comfort you. He placed a cool cloth on your forehead and soon you were drifting back into sleep again.  
Was it days or weeks that you slept? You had no concept of time. Sometimes, when you awoke, the sun streamed in through the windows. At others, the darkness overtook the room. But each time, the man was there, lulling you back to sleep, comforting you with his silence and a cool cloth.  
Finally, one morning you awoke fully. The sun lit the room with a dim glow, and you were surprised to find yourself able to move and sit up with relative ease.  
"Ah, you're awake," said a woman's voice. Turning, you saw the woman who had placed the blanket around your shoulders by your side. She smiled warmly.  
You tried to speak, but no words formed on your tongue. "Here," she said, guiding a cup of water to your lips. "Don't speak quite yet. I'm Maria. We're taking care of you. Everything will be fine. You were just a little sick."  
You cleared your throat and managed a few words. "The man?" you asked, pointing to the now empty chair at the end of your bed.  
"Ah, yes, Pedro," Maria said with a smile. "I sent him to the sitting room to sleep. He sat there for three days straight, tending to you."  
Three days? These strangers were too kind to you, despite not knowing anything about your past. Already you felt like a burden.  
"Do you remember what happened?" Maria questioned kindly. "Do you remember your name?"  
"My ship. Pirates, I think. Someone saved me." You paused for a moment. And your name. What should you say? Was it prudent to lie? No, these people had given so much for you, they deserved the truth. So, you introduced yourself.  
"You're lucky we found you when we did. Barely had a heartbeat. Dr. Garcia fixed you up, but it was Pedro who found you. He wouldn't leave your side until he knew you were okay." Maria's words struck at your heart. No one had ever cared about you this much. "Is there anything I can get for you? Maybe some food?"  
You nodded. You weren't that hungry, but you felt like it was in your best interest to eat something. Maria left with the promise that she would return. Struggling up onto your elbows, you surveyed the room, which was sparsely decorated but homey none-the-less. The chair in front of the fireplace where Pedro had sat for days was simple wood, along with the chest and drawers across from it. The only luxury appeared to be the mattress on which you slept, which was bigger than any you'd ever seen. You could actually spread your legs and arms out wide, unlike on the tiny cots you were used to your whole life.  
The simple act of sitting up and looking around had drained your body of energy and before you knew it, you were asleep again, completely missing Maria's return with a bowl of broth.  
It was later in the evening, you knew by the shift in light in the room, when you awoke from your nap. The bowl of broth, now cold, sat on a small table next to the bed. You took a sip, even though it was no longer warm. Even so, it was delicious, and you found yourself swallowing the entire bowl and craving more.  
Would your limbs carry you? There was only one way to find out. Carefully pulling aside the covers, you swung your legs out and over the edge of the bed. Testing each foot first, you managed to ease yourself into a standing position while holding onto the bed. One step, then two, and then three carried you toward to bedroom door. A dressing gown was draped across the back of the chair, which you pulled on over your shift. Surprisingly, your legs managed to hold you, and you turned the doorknob with a twist.  
With the door open, you could hear voices carried through the house and you followed their direction.  
"She woke up and you didn't tell me?" came one voice, low and gravely like you remembered from the beach.  
"You needed your sleep. Besides, she wasn't awake long. You would have just disturbed her." This voice you recognized as Maria.  
You continued your journey toward what you hoped would be more food. Each step was becoming more and more difficult, but the back of Maria's head became visible through one more doorway and you determined to make it that far. In the doorway, it became necessary to lean against the frame and take a few deep breaths. You were far weaker than you thought.  
At the sound of your labored breathing, Maria looked up. "Ah, you're awake again." You did your best to smile, but the floor seemed to be shifting under your feet, even though you weren't taking any steps. "Are you feeling alright?" Maria said, moments before your lightheadedness caught you off guard and you began to fall. Expecting to meet solid ground, you were surprised to find yourself landing in a pair of strong arms, which lifted your feet off the ground and placed you in a seat at the kitchen table.  
"Be careful," said the low voice, commanding but gentle at the same. Looking up, you finally caught a glimpse of the man's face, the man who had sat by your bed for three days. It was Pedro.  
"Thank you," was all you could offer weakly, though the failure of your voice was equally caused by the sheer size of the figure that stood before you. Now, you understood why he needed such a large bed. It was no wonder Pedro had been the one to carry you from the beach and catch you as you fell. His tall and muscular frame engulfed your tired and starved one. He sat himself down on the chair across from you but kept an eye on you to ensure you weren't going to faint again.  
"Here," Maria said, placing another, now hot bowl, of soup before you.  
Eating afforded you the silence and time to study the face of the man that sat across from you. His tanned skin glowed warmly in the light of the kitchen furnace. Thick locks of curly dark hair spread across his forehead in an unruly mop that gave him a slightly wild look. The shadow of a beard, as if he had forgotten to shave for several days, lined a sharp jawline. His nose, the most prominent feature on his face, had a high rounded bridge that inspired a regal look, despite the rest of his wayward features. Pedro's eyes, steeped with worry, were the kind of deep brown that garnered trust, and they never wavered in their intense stare directed right back at you.  
"I'm going to head home for the night," Maria said. So, she wasn't his wife, like you may have suspected. Did Pedro live alone? "I've left you a clean nightgown and some clothes, cariño. And I'll be back in the morning. Let me know if you need anything. And don't try anything crazy," she said, giving you a warning against moving around too much and suggesting you go straight back to bed. You nodded and thanked her gratefully.  
Maria nodded a goodnight and left the two of you in the silence of the kitchen. Quietly, you finished up your meal, focusing now more on the contents of your bowl than the man across from you. Despite his size and serious demeanor, Pedro didn't scare you in the least. On the contrary, you had never felt so safe before as you did now. You allowed yourself to become lost in your thoughts. At least, until the sound of your name came from Pedro's mouth. Good lord. Your eyes instantly snapped to his and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to hear him say your name again. What was happening to you?  
"Would you like some help back to bed?" Pedro asked. You paused a moment before answering.  
"Is that your bed?" Pedro nodded wordlessly in response. "I can't kick you out of your own bed," you said. "I can sleep elsewhere."  
"No," was Pedro's short reply. You would soon learn this was typical of him, short, one-word answers that left no room for argument. "Come."  
Pedro offered you his hand to hold as you stood from your chair. He led you carefully back to bed, ensuring your steps held strong and supporting most of your body weight. He eased you back into bed, tucking the covers under your chin against the cold.  
"Goodnight," he said, before heading back towards the door to leave you for the night.  
"Wait," you called out. You weren't sure where you were going with this, but you felt that you had to thank him for his kindness somehow. You had to thank him for not prying, for not asking questions about your past, for accepting you into his home. "Thank you for everything. Words can't describe how much I appreciate what you've done for me. I-" You paused, unable to swallow the guilt and fear that hitched in your throat. "I could have died, sunk to the bottom like the rest of the ship. Thank you for saving me."  
Pedro smiled gently. "Sleep well."  
You did not sleep well.


	3. Guardian of Sleep

Nightmares ravaged your dreams that night. The cold of the ocean came flooding back into your memories and you felt yourself drowning all over again. You thrashed, trying to pull your head above crashing waves, but no matter how hard you tried, you only sank deeper beneath the surface. 

Suddenly, the ocean faded away, and you were back in the dark of that tiny cell. The walls closed in, starting slow and growing quicker until you could no longer stand. Finally, they crushed your lungs under the weight of stone and steel. You, the one who cures, cursed to an eternity in the darkness, in the cold, in pain. 

You didn't realize you were screaming in your sleep until a gentle hand pulled you from it. "Hush, you're okay. No one can hurt you here." What had you yelled out in your sleep?

Pedro's voice calmed your shaking body. Despite being beneath several layers of blankets, your limbs shivered uncontrollably against an aching cold. 

"Shit," Pedro whispered as he vigorously poked the embers of the dead fireplace. The flames had gone out and none reappeared, despite his wholehearted attempts. "I'm sorry it's so cold." 

You shook your head, trying to tell him it was alright, not his fault, but he didn't seem to understand. So, you reached out your hand, hoping he would take it. He did, his warm hand enveloping your freezing cold one. Starting to sense what you were asking for, Pedro took both your small hands and warmed them between his own. But it wasn't enough. Your whole body still shook, cold to the core. You needed warmth, now, and a large body like his could provide it.

Still unable to speak, you scooted over in the bed, giving him space to sit on one half. Eventually, Pedro seemed to understand. Lifting up the covers, he crawled in bed next to you. You were fully aware of the social implications of such an invitation. What would people think if they knew an unmarried man and woman were in bed together. At least you assumed he was unmarried. In fact, you hoped, desperately, that he was unmarried. But none of these worries lasted long when he finally enveloped your entire body with his, cocooning you in his body heat. You had never been so close to a person before, but the sudden warmth brought about some type of delirium and you fell back to sleep instantly.

The nightmares did not return.

In the morning, Pedro was still there. In fact, it sounded like he was snoring. He must have slept deeply. Slowly, you attempted to slide out of bed. You had to pee really badly and the empty pit in your stomach was growling for food. However, you found yourself unable to move. Pedro still had his arm draped heavily over your side. He wasn't holding you or anything, simply encasing you in the solid weight of his warmth. 

Time to try again, you thought. Gently lifting his arm, you managed to scoot out from under him and leave the sanctity of the covers. You immediately regretted your decision, as the air was just as cold this morning as it was when he joined you in bed last night. But your bladder was now making decisions for you and you could wait no longer. 

Looking around, you noticed a pair of boots by the bedroom door, probably placed there by Maria sometime the previous day. They were a bit large on you, but you laced them up nonetheless to protect your bare feet from the cold. You made your way back to the kitchen, hoping to find a coat of some kind to protect you in your trek outdoors to the outhouse. Fortunately, you found one hanging next to the back door and did your best to make the trip quick.

When you stepped back into the heat of the kitchen, Maria had returned to start breakfast, and she smiled at the sight of you up and walking unassisted. After exchanging good mornings, she invited you to join her in a quick tour of the house. You would, of course, need to know your way around if this was where you were to recover. 

You thanked the lord Maria kept the conversation short and to the point. She was respectful and didn't pry into your past or ask you where you had come from or where you were trying to go. You weren't sure if you could handle reliving that part of yourself quite yet, let alone tell her the truth about your reasons for being on that ship.

After a bowl of hot porridge, you left Maria to get dressed to better protect yourself from the cold morning air. Pedro was still asleep, and you did your best to open and close the bedroom door quietly. He had, after all, watched over you for three days straight. He deserved some extra rest. 

Sitting atop the chest at the foot of the bed lay a full outfit, kindly provided by Maria. You changed out of your shift into a clean one that didn't have three days of sickness on it. The shift was comfortable but hung loosely around your undernourished shoulders. You noticed that the stays were your own, somehow rescued along with your body from the cold ocean, only now clean and fresh rather than caked in salt and sand. Unfortunately, the laces on the back weren't going to do themselves, but the weakness in your arms limited your range of motion. You were ready to give up and forgo the damn thing altogether when a sleepy voice asked, "Need some help?"

Pedro had awoken to the sound of your struggles and he was now watching you lazily as you struggled to get dressed. Heat rose in your cheeks, though you weren't sure why. The two of you had shared a bed last night. He had held you close to keep you warm. And yet, having him see you in this state of half dress made your stomach flutter. 

Pedro sat up, and with one finger, he motioned you over to the side of the bed so he could better reach the laces at your back. Your feet moved obediently of their own accord, ignoring the embarrassment making your heart pound in your chest. 

With deft hands and natural ease, Pedro ran the laces through the eyelets of your stays, tightening them gently as he went. His fingers glided tenderly along your back, and though the layers of your undergarments separated you from his touch, you couldn't help the small shiver that went up your spine as he tucked in the excess cording. 

"Is that alright?" The kindness in his voice was warm enough to heat even this cold bedroom. 

"Yes, thank you." You needed space, to steady your heart, smooth your ruffled emotions. But he didn't let you. Instead, he sat you back down on the bed and began reaching for your clothes himself. First, the wool stockings, which he slid up each of your legs from a kneeling position in front of you on the floor. His warm fingers grazed the skin of your thighs leaving tingling lines of fire in their wake. You couldn't tell if it was the cold of the room or his proximity, but you were left trembling on the bed.

Next, he slipped on each of your boots, which now fit better with the tick woolen stockings beneath. He tightened the laces and then offered you his hand. "Stand for me?" he asked, though it was more of a command than a suggestion. "Hands up."

Pedro helped slip your dress over your head and tie it up in the back. "Don't forget to bundle up." And then he left you there, shaking from his touch. Last night, it had been a necessity of survival. Now, it seemed a necessity of humanity. Your entire body ached for touch for so many years, and now that it was there, you couldn't take it. What was wrong with you?

\----

"This is where we keep our share of last year's harvest," Maria was saying. She had shown you all around the house and was now giving you a tour of the property. Maria and her husband, Mateo, had their own home just across the road. But, technically, the three of them, Maria, Mateo, and Pedro, all shared the same plot of land. It had started as a convenience, one to tend to the fields, one to tend to the animals, one to handle the trade; however, they had all fallen easily into a friendship that allowed them to share without fear of under handing one another. It sounded like a perfect partnership to you.

"That's the smokehouse over there. We usually store enough meat to make it through the winter. But this is where the grain and feed are kept."

You gazed around the spacious outbuilding. Lining the walls were not only shelves of grain, but dried herbs, plants, and flowers. "Did you save all these? Why?"

Maria laughed. "That was Pedro. I'm not sure why. He keeps saying he feels like he'll need them one day and then never uses them."

It was strange, this collection, all plants you recognized, herbs and medicines that for years you had handled with care. In your life before, the magic of medicine had come so naturally to you that people would walk for miles just to get their hands on your creations. In a cruel twist of fate, those creations had been the reason for your presence of that sinking ship. But now, being in this room, it was like stepping back into your own workshop again. 

"Can I borrow some of these?" you asked, your hands flitting over the familiar dried herbs, nose taking in the scents of home. What used to be home.

"Be my guest. Someone ought to get some use out of them. Come, let me show you to my home, and then you’re welcome to do whatever you like." Though you protested, Maria assured you that you had no obligation to do any work around the property. Recovery was your priority, she repeated.

An hour later, you found yourself drawn back to the outbuilding, pulling bundles of dried thyme, rosemary, thistle, and chamomile from the shelves. If there was one thing you knew how to brew better than anything else, it was health. Of course, anyone could combine these exact ingredients to make tea. But time had shown that your hands added something special.

"Just like this, mija," whispered the voice of your abuelita in the back of your mind. The warmth of your hands, the strength of your wrist, and something else, a bit more magical, breathed healing power into the powder you were grinding. It would take several days for the magic to fully heal you, but the first sips instantly lifted your spirits. You sighed in relief; your magic was still your own.

Pedro poked his head into the kitchen where you busied yourself about the stove. "I need to go into town. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Rest a bit, please," he said. Though he attempted to mask his feelings, the worry was ever-present in his voice. "Will you be alright alone?"

You nodded but continued to work, not looking up from the pot on its flame.

Pedro lingered, perhaps in curiosity. "Don't feel like you need to do anything around here. Your health comes first." He paused, as if unsure what to say. "What are you doing, exactly?"

At his words, the pot came to a boil, and you knew it was ready. Immediately removing it from the stove, you poured the pot's contents into a mug and handed it to Pedro. "Drink. It'll keep you warm out there."

He looked suspiciously into the cup and then gave it a sniff. 

"I promise it won't kill you. Go on," you said with a laugh. So, he did, taking a cautious sip and then downing the whole thing in one go. It wasn't until later that evening, riding home through the snow, that Pedro would realize he should very much be cold. And yet, he would find that not only did the chill of the darkness not seep into his bones, but he seemed to radiate heat in an unnatural way. It was the most comfortable trip into town he had ever taken.


	4. Time Heals All Wounds

The extent of your magic was still unknown, even to you. Could you make two people fall in love? Could you bring the dead back to life? It was hard to tell. Each tea you steeped, each spell you cast, would leave you feeling a bit drained, though to varying degrees. How much energy would it take to breathe life into the dead? You didn't know, and you hoped you'd never have to find out.

You managed to stay awake that night long enough to await Pedro's return home. You wanted to make sure your spell had worked. You thought he would be pleased, grateful even, to have maintained such a comfortable body temperature throughout his trip. But he seemed only wary, and a bit suspicious.

He was silent through dinner. He appeared to be searching for the right words to say. Finally, he spoke.

"What did you do to me?" You were taken aback, feeling almost attacked by his blunt words. He probably didn't mean for it to sound so accusatory, and immediately his face softened in an attempt to comfort you. "I'm sorry that was harsh. It's only- I-"

Your abuelita had always warned you to be careful about who you showed your magic to. Not two weeks ago, her words had come true and it had nearly cost you your life. But something about Pedro told you you could trust him. You didn't want him to worry. You didn't want him to think he was being coerced or manipulated into caring for you. So, you simplified your words.

"I gave you a shield," you said.

"That was more than a shield," he replied with a nervous laugh. "Are you, you know, one of those-?"

But he couldn't finish his sentence, and you weren't about to do it for him. Still, he was more relaxed now, somehow knowing you weren't here to hurt him.

"We should get some rest. I need to go back to work tomorrow." No more dillydallying he seemed to be saying. Pedro stood and cleared the plates from the table.

"Pedro," you questioned, "why haven't you asked?" Where was this coming from? Why would you instigate this?

"About what?"

"Why I was on that ship?"

"Do you want to tell me?" You didn't. And his reply was answer enough. He could wait as long as you needed to feel comfortable opening up. 

That night, without any communication at all, you both climbed into bed, ready to share one another's warmth.

And this is how it became. You ready to warm his soul in the morning before he went off to work for the day, then a quiet, but comfortable dinner at night. And then to sleep at night, no questions asked, together in bed. The routine was a welcome one, and every day you became more and more comfortable with his presence.

One morning, Pedro finally asked a question as you handed him his tea. "Why don't you make this for yourself, stay warm at night and kick me out of bed?"

"And why would I want to do that?" Your answer had him floundering for a response, but you went on anyway. "Besides, every mug steals a bit of my strength. It's not worth the effort."

Pedro now simply looked confused. "This is tiring for you?"

You nodded. All magic was tiring, you explained, though some more exhausting than others. But it took significant effort to keep another person warm throughout the day. At your explanation, Pedro tried to stop you from ever performing magic again. It was kind of him, but you were used to it. It was part of you now. Besides, it wasn't like he could stop working simply because it wore him out. That was a part of life.

Soon, your days with Pedro began to bleed into one another. The two of you found a routine to your daily life, and though he expressly forbade you from doing anything that could impact your recovery, you made yourself useful around the house. Back home, you had found ways to weave magic into the very fiber of your home, use special soaps to clean your clothes, enchant the logs to burn hotter and brighter, mix herbs into your food and drink. So, you did the same here, hoping to earn your keep and make this house a home for however long you'd be allowed to stay.

After a long day of work, the two of you had taken to sitting before the fire in the sitting room, warming your toes with the flames. Usually, you conversed quietly about the day before or the days ahead. Sometimes, you sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying one another's quiet company.

Tonight, you felt as though it was time. Pedro deserved to know how you had even managed to end up here. So, you began to talk. He stayed silent, but his intense stare focused on you, and you knew he was listening.

You had always had this magic, you explained. You were born with it inside. As a little girl, your abuela taught you to concentrate and control your power into your hands, and she used to say she could feel your magic the moment you walked in the room, like electricity sparking in the air. Over the years, you became a healer, infusing herbs and plants with healing powers to cure even the most incurable illnesses. People came from miles around to request your assistance. The stories of your power spread, and your influence grew. It was everything you had ever wanted, the healing touch of your hands placed gently on the world. But not everyone took kindly to magic. Eventually, the wrong people heard, the people with the most power. They arrested you, accused you of witchcraft, and sentenced you to burn at the stake. You spent days in jail, alone, without food or water, awaiting the fate you so desperately wanted to get over and done with. But fate would not have you yet. A guard, whose daughter you had saved from certain death only a month ago, rescued you and set you free in the middle of the night. 

What were you to do? You had no money, no connections. You couldn't stay. Only death awaited you if you remained. In the middle of the night, you snuck aboard that ill-fated vessel, with no idea of where you would end up but knowing it was better than this. When the pirates attacked, again, you thought it was fate coming to take your soul. Yet she still would not have you. You weren't sure where you would go from here but perhaps some greater purpose called to you. Fate was never so kind as she had been to you.

Pedro continued to watch you as you finished your story. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but his face was scrunched up in concentration, the light flickering off his strong features and casting him in an orange glow. Frown lines, which so rarely appeared on his face, made him look more mature and older than he tended to act. 

But just the sight of him, giving you his full attention, was enough to make you feel more wanted and accepted than you had ever felt before. Regardless of how you healed people, they tended to be wary of you and watch you suspiciously as if you may turn on them at any moment. But since you had first explained to him what your hands could do, it was as if Pedro trusted you more than anyone else, even Maria. 

"So, you're a healer," he finally whispered. "And they were going to kill you?" The pain in his voice suddenly came through, strong and tense. He paused for a moment, thinking of his next words carefully. He looked away, into the fire, unable to face you as he spoke.

"Every time you step into the room, it's as if-" he stumbled over his words. "It's as if a weight is lifted from my shoulders. At first, I thought it was a coincidence, but I know it can't be. Just being near you makes my muscles relax and my joints loosen. Every morning I wake up and I feel like I've had the best sleep in my life. You heal me. How could anyone want to hurt that? End that?"

You could no longer help the butterflies that were dancing in your tummy and you hoped the heat of the fireplace concealed the blush on your cheeks. 

You began to understand where he was going with this, but something about his words confused you. No one had ever told you that your mere presence was enough to heal their pain. They always needed some potion or salve from you, a direct concentration of your magic for it to work. But Pedro was now saying that being near you was enough. What did this mean?

"Can I try something?" you asked. It was a long shot, but perhaps he was different. Perhaps it was his absolute trust.

"Try what?"

You stood and moved to where he was sitting, standing directly behind his chair. You knew for days a sore shoulder had plagued his movements. You had tried your best with herbs, but sometimes deep pain needed a stronger cure. This was something you'd never tried before but now was as good a time as any. You tugged gently at the edges of his shirt, and Pedro pulled it up over his head, though still confused and carefully avoiding the use of the enflamed arm.

Using the warmth of your palms, you gently placed your hands directly to his skin over his sore muscles. Beneath your fingers, his skin twitched with the sudden contact but then relaxed. And something new happened. It was almost as if you could see with your fingers exactly where the pain was originating from. Without pressing too hard, you moved your hands over the spot, finding the best angle, and then-

You felt the knots release, his tendons loosen, the pain lessen. It was exhausting, that transferal of energy that had just happened between your skin and his. You felt as if every muscle in your body was fatigued, the strength zapped from them. But it was exhilarating at the same time. You had never done this before, healed someone instantly with a physical connection. Pedro gasped audibly, just as surprised as you. "Dios mío," he breathed.

"How did you-" he tried to ask, but somehow you both knew there was no answer to that question. It simply was. Unexpectedly, Pedro reached up and took your hand in his own. He placed a kiss to the palm that had healed him, lingering there longer than was appropriate but knowing it was exactly what you wanted. 

Suddenly feeling emboldened by his display of affection, you leaned over his shoulder, hugging him from behind. Though partly due to the exhaustion now overtaking your body, you also found yourself needing to be closer to him than you already were. This skin, so soft and tender, despite its deep tan and the rippling muscles beneath. You had never seen him bare-chested like this, but he was exactly as expected, broad and warm, a scattering of hair across his sternum. Beneath the hand you ran down the front of his chest, his muscled flexed, eventually relaxing to your touch as if he wanted this just as much as you. 

You wanted to touch him all over, feel every inch of his skin, every dip and crevice, every freckle and mole. Instead, your head collapsed heavily onto his shoulder, your face buried into the crook of his neck. You slumped, unable to even hold your own weight from the exhaustion. But God, he smelled so good, salty like sweat but sweet like cedar, and-

"Mierda," Pedro said, suddenly aware that the act of healing him had taken the last of your strength. "No more of that," he said softly, shifting around in his seat so he could hold you better. Somehow, he managed to lift you into his arms, carrying you as if you weighed nothing at all. 

The past couple of nights, you'd been strong enough to undress yourself, but tonight you just wanted to lay straight in bed, stays and all. But, in all his kindness and chivalry, Pedro would not allow it. As you lay starfished on the bed, unable to will yourself to move, he untied your boots and removed your stockings. After some finagling, you were undressed and just strong enough to skootch under the covers. 

Pedro was still shirtless. He had always slept fully clothed with you, out of respect you suspected, but the events of the evening had made him a little less self-conscious, and a little bolder too. Propped up by pillows, you watched as he undressed, dropping his trousers to the floor and leaving him in nothing but his underwear. 

"Be careful," he said.

"Why?"

"If you don't stop looking at me like that, I'm going to think you want me to take the rest of it off."


	5. The Magic of Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our first spicy chapter. (ooh baby)

Sadly, he did not take the rest off. 

Pedro did, however, crawl into bed next to you and slip under the covers. Most nights, you would have turned away to maintain some sense of propriety. But you couldn't bring yourself to turn away tonight. His body was so close to yours, his chest nearly touched yours, and your face, though holding back from fulfilling every one of your fantasies right then and there, shared a pillow with his in their proximity.

Despite the comfort of Pedro's bed, the exhaustion in your bones had not dissipated yet and Pedro looked nearly as ready to fall asleep as you. His eyes fluttered closed and his breathing slowed, sending the occasional puff of warm air across your forehead. 

"Pedro?" you questioned in a whisper, not wanting to disturb him, but having to ask nonetheless. 

He grunted softly, acknowledging you but not opening his eyes. You hesitated, suddenly unsure if you should request the one thing you wanted most in this world. What if he didn't want it as well? What if you were being to forward? When you didn't answer immediately, Pedro peeked one eye open to look at your face.

"You gonna say something, or can I go to sleep?" he teased. You couldn't help the giggle that escaped your mouth.

"No, I just- Well I thought..." Spit it out, spit it out. "Would you kiss me?" There it was, out in the open. No taking it back now.

Silence. Pedro's eyes had fallen back closed and it was hard to gauge his reaction. Was he asleep already? Was he ignoring you? Suddenly, an easy smile spread across his face, and in his husky voice, he spoke. 

"I thought you'd never ask."

A calloused hand found its place on the back of your neck, and with his thumb, Pedro lifted your chin up and toward his face. The distance between your lips felt like an eternity. Why couldn't he move any faster? Just kiss you already, goddammit. But then, his lips crashed against yours, knocking the wind out of your chest and completely flooring you. How were his lips so soft? And why did they fit so perfectly against yours? His mouth seemed to have been molded by the gods, created for none other than you. They were gentle yet backed by a force that could only be described as desire, intense, hot desire. If this kiss could speak, it would have told you just exactly how long Pedro had waited for this moment, and how deeply he wanted you. 

This kiss could stop time in its tracks. You felt that if you could kiss this man forever, you might in fact live forever. But it wasn't enough. You had to hold him, feel him. Your hands found their way to his chest, touching every piece of bare skin they could find. You explored the curves of his pecks, the dip of his collar bones, the ridges of his abs. The small groan that escaped his mouth and entered your own let you know that every emotion currently flooding your brain was overwhelming him as well. Hesitantly, he began to move his mouth against yours in a rhythm that left you gasping for air.

Pedro's other arm reached out and wrapped around your waist, bringing you as close to him as possible. The small distance that had once separated you no longer existed, chest pressed to chest, hips touching hips. You weren't sure it was physically possible to be any closer together until he lifted your top leg up and over his own, wrapping you around him. Your legs tangled together.

How in the world were you going to sleep now with desire and need coursing through your veins? But Pedro seemed to have the same idea. Reluctantly, he pulled away from your lips to rest his forehead against yours. You moaned with displeasure. 

"We were meant to sleep, mi vida," he said. He was right, rest was what you needed. "Close your eyes." You did as you were told. 

"Good girl," barely escaped his lips, so quietly he spoke.

\---

Pedro couldn't keep his hands off you. One kiss, and a flip had switched inside him, a fire lit. He teased you incessantly, grabbed your hands at the most inconvenient moments, pinched your backside any time you bent over. Though it was unnecessary, he placed his hand on the small of your back whenever he passed by you and tucked your hair behind your ears when the two of you spoke. 

He became goofier and more relaxed than you'd ever known him to be. He made jokes at dinner and silly faces at you to catch your eye. Keeping a smile on your face seemed to be his priority at all times. 

And yet, however lighthearted and silly this new Pedro was, it only seemed to hurt you more. You'd been thinking for days now about how this would end. You were healing. Your body was recovering. You couldn't impose on his hospitality forever. And then what? Would you have to leave? Find somewhere else to plants roots, only to have them displaced all over again? No, Pedro was more than a rescuer now. More than a friend even. While these thoughts lingered in the back of your head at all times, they never seemed to cross Pedro's mind. You didn't want to leave but the prospect seemed inevitable. 

In an attempt to quiet the conflict in your mind, you turned intently upon your work. In the past, the progress of your magic had been limited by resources, space, and willing subjects. But here, in the relative isolation of the farm, you had free range to practice. Pedro spent most of the day tending to livestock and preparing for the spring crop. You followed behind diligently, healing even the most remotely injured animals, improving the egg yield of the chickens and the milk production of the cows. 

Occasionally, Maria took you to town, and though it felt like cheating, you found that with a bit of charm the market vendors gave you lower bartering rates and offered you free samples. You had never worked your magic directly over the will of people, to convince them with power instead of words alone. Though it worked well enough, the manipulation left you feeling dirty and guilty and especially exhausted, so you avoided it as much as possible.

As the days turned to weeks, you began to take on more and more of a role on the farm, collecting eggs, mending clothes, and even helping Mateo out every once in a while with his blacksmith side projects.

Mateo was not one to be trifled with, you learned quickly. He did not sugar coat his words, nor did he tolerate only half an effort. His demeanor made him hard to work with, but metalwork was a chance to try out new materials. You found that the will of metal was more difficult to bend than plants or other softer substances. It made sense; only the strongest of arms could shape iron and steel into something useful. But, eventually, with the help of Mateo, you could craft items that were both strong and light. It was a breakthrough. 

Your favorite time, however, was not trips to the market or afternoons in the forge. No, it was the evening, when both you and Pedro were done with chores for the day, and you could relax from the hard day of work. The two of you could cook and chat and think of nothing but the pleasure of an eventual sleep, deep and calming.

"That smells amazing," Pedro's voice said in your ear. He had quietly snuck up behind you to watch over your shoulder as you stirred a pot on the stove. Absentmindedly, he gathered your loose hair at the base of your neck, pulling it out of your face and wrapping it around his fingers. The act was aimless and meandering, as if he was unaware of the way the sudden exposure of your neck made your skin crawl. Having nothing better to do, you stood perfectly still, awaiting his next move. 

Nothing could have prepared you for what he did next. One long finger, calloused yet tender, reached up and stroked your neck, gently tracing a long line from the back of your ear to the dip of your shoulder. Pedro was usually a touchy person, but this was on a different level. It left you feeling lightheaded. "Tempting," he whispered, and you were pretty sure he wasn't talking about the soup anymore. 

Pedro was teasing you, and he knew it was working. But what could you do, except give in to his taunts? You turned around in the little space he had left between him and the stove and planted your hands squarely against his chest. He was a good six or seven inches taller than you, and it took quite the stretch to reach his lips. But he met you half-way, one hand still wrapped in your hair, and pulled you tightly into his embrace.

He hadn't kissed you once since that night in bed. He seemed to be waiting for your permission to invade your space like that again. But this invitation was all-inclusive, and you made sure he knew that. Still wrapped up in his kiss, you tugged at the buttons of his shirt, asking silently for it to be gone. 

Apparently, he had other ideas. The hand in your hair pulled gently, tilting your head back to give his mouth better access to the tender skin of your neck. The kisses he planted there were just as soft as the ones placed on your lips but much more possessive, as if to say that your throat was his and his alone. You barely noticed when he said your name, trying to get your attention. 

"Look at me," he said sternly and your insides did a little dance. "Open your eyes." 

You hadn't even noticed they were closed, but when your gazes met, he almost didn't even need to say what next left his lips. 

"I want to ravage you."

It wasn't a question but it came out as one. Yes, yes, your brain said, but you could speak no words.

"Do you understand me?" Pedro said cautiously. He didn't want to do anything you didn't want just as much, and he needed confirmation. "I want to make love with you. I want to fuck you. Tell me you understand."

Finally, the words managed to make their way out. "Yes. Please."

That was enough. Suddenly, his arms were wrapped under your legs, picking you up and carrying you out of the kitchen. You had no idea how he knew where he was going. His lips remained on yours the whole way, kissing you as if his life depended on it until he set you down in the bedroom. 

Your clothes couldn't come off fast enough. The heat in your core was building and you were already slick and wet with need. But something caused Pedro to stop, moments before he lifted your shift over your head. "Have you done this before?" he questioned you.

The answer was a bit more difficult than yes or no. Yes, you'd tried. Everyone experimented a bit. But it had been a long time and never with anyone you cared that much for. That thought scared you a bit. Did you really care for him, unlike any other? You didn't have time to ponder that question. Your shift was now gone and you stood before Pedro naked for the first time. It was relatively dark in the room, with only candlelight breaking up the shadows. Yet, instinctually, your arms reached up to cover your chest. Pedro wouldn't allow it; he grabbed your hands in anticipation of your movement and held them out to the side. Your breath caught in your lungs and you almost lost control of yourself right then and there. 

"Dios mío," he whispered. His words caressed your skin, sending goosebumps up your arms and down your legs. He paused a moment to take you in, eyes raking along every curve of your body, across your heaving breasts down toward your dripping cunt. Mine, his dark gaze seemed to say. 

Having sufficiently taken in the sight of your naked body, Pedro walked you backward until the backs of your knees hit the bed, buckling your legs and sitting you down heavily. "Lay back."

You did as you were told. You would always do what you were told, as long as it was said in a voice like that, commanding yet so tender. His calloused hands gripped your ankles, sliding them up the bed and forcing your knees to bend. You realized that in this position, he would have a perfect view of everything you had to offer. And Pedro wasted no time in claiming what was his. Still standing, he lifted one leg up and over his shoulder, planting kisses from the inside of your ankle, down your calf, and across the soft skin of your groin, lingering at each tender spot before taking his place between your quaking thighs. Your body couldn't take the teasing much longer, but he moved as if he had all night for this. 

When his lips finally kissed your aching cunt, the sensation was almost too much to take. Your head flopped back against the covers, a moan of anticipation escaping your lips. 

"That's a good girl," Pedro growled. "I want to hear you scream."

You weren't exactly sure what he was doing. No one had ever used their mouth like this on you before, especially not down there. But my god, it was amazing. Heat spread through your core and into your tummy, which continued to tighten with pleasure. Pedro's mouth remained in place, but his hands slid up your body, eventually taking hold of the soft flesh of your chest. He teased each nipple with his fingers, flicking and pulling until your chest heaved and you squirmed beneath his touch.

With his tongue, Pedro parted your lips and prodded at your entrance, eliciting more moans and pants from your mouth. Suddenly, his tongue flicked across your clit, a spot you only experimented with rarely. You had no idea the sensation could feel so good, could bring you to such an edge, could make you feel like you were going to turn to ash under his touch. Was this real? Was this supposed to happen? There was no way ecstasy could be reached this way. Something had to be wrong.

"Pedro," you barely managed to gasp, but he could hear the concern in your voice.

"Is something wrong? Am I hurting you?"

You shook your head adamantly. It was exactly the opposite. All this attention was good, too good. "I don't know- I felt-"

Pedro smiled in understanding. "It's called an orgasm, mi vida. Relax and let it come."

So you did. Fuck.

This was heaven, you were sure of it. The rhythmic pace of Pedro's tongue built that tension in your thighs, your stomach, even your chest. Your whole body tightened in anticipation of release and when it came, the moans that left your mouth were dirty and vulgar and indecent. And you screamed his name, just as he'd requested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beautiful Pascalitos please let me know if you are enjoying this story. I will try to update as often as possible to keep your hunger at bay. I accept any suggestions so if you have something special ;) you want to see happen, let me know xxoo


	6. It Gets Better Every Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, we got it all, sexy Pedro, soft Pedro, sweet Pedro, a little dominant Pedro. No spoilers but let's just say you take control in the end.

You couldn't move. You couldn't open your eyes. It seemed a miracle you could still breathe.

Emerging from between your legs, Pedro crawled his way up your body, placing kisses along his path from your navel to the valley between your breasts. 

"What was that?" You felt light-headed and dazed, floating on a cloud of ecstasy. 

"That," Pedro said, "Was how a man should always treat his woman."

His woman. The words ricocheted around your brain. 

"You like it down there?" Pedro laughed at your question. But you were curious about what he'd just done, an act so intimate yet entirely for your pleasure. You wanted to know more, how he'd done it, why he'd liked it so much. "What do I taste like?" 

In response, Pedro simply kissed you, deeply. You opened your mouth and you could taste what was left of your orgasm on his tongue. It was salty yet sweet and perhaps a bit acidic as well. 

He was obviously enjoying this kiss as much as you, but you wanted more.

Somehow, despite your current state of undress, Pedro had been lucky enough to remain fully clothed. It was time to change that. You tugged at the bottom of his shirt, untucking it from his waistband and breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over his head. 

Pedro liked your forwardness, but he also preferred to be in charge. In a show of dominance, Pedro grabbed your wrists to pin your arms over your head, using one hand to hold them there and the other to caress the curves of your body. But two could play this game and you would meet him on his level. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled his hips down to meet yours. His trousers still separated your pelvis from being able to fully connect to his, but they couldn't hide the bulge that revealed his arousal. And they certainly couldn't stop you from grinding against him.

Your movement caught even you off guard. You gasped involuntarily into his mouth which still covered yours. You had no idea what rubbing up against him would accomplish until you felt a similar sensation course through your body that you had felt only minutes ago. Grinding against the bulge in his pants had allowed you to stimulate that very same spot Pedro had so expertly stimulated. It wasn't exactly the same, but it sure felt good, so you kept going. 

A rough moan escaped Pedro's lips. Was this as good for him as it was for you? With a heavy pant, his head dropped into your neck, his hot breath leaving you trembling but provoking you to go on. You began to drag your feet up and down the backs of his legs as you continued to grind against him and he matched your rhythm almost involuntarily. 

Pedro mumbled something incoherent into your neck. "What did you say?" you managed to pant out in between gasps of pleasure.

Suddenly he stopped, still pinning your hands over your head but now pinning your hips to the bed as well. 

"I said, do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?" His voice was strained with arousal as if he was reaching a breaking point.

You were bold with your next words. Too bold. "Maybe you need to show me."

This challenge would not go unmet. How he managed to remove his pants so quickly you weren't sure. "Stop me if it's too much. Do you understand? Tell me you understand."

Fuck, his words had you squirming. You gave your affirmation and he waited no longer. In one fluid motion, he slammed into you. The air was knocked out of your lungs. He was so big you could feel every muscle in your body contract with the sudden invasion. But like his lips, his cock seemed to have been crafted by the gods. As he pulled out and slammed back into you, you knew this body was made for no other, he fit so perfectly. 

At first, he took his time. But Pedro's body was overcome with need and he began to move quicker and quicker, rocking his hips against yours with a force so intense you thought he might break you underneath him. You could have told him to stop, to slow down, that it was too much. But you couldn't. You didn't want him to stop. That now familiar feeling of pleasure was building again between your hips with every thrust.

You wanted to touch him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Finally, he let go of your hands so both of his could be free and they flew to his shoulders, helping him set his pace and pull him along. His long fingers gripped your hips as he choked out your name into oblivion. 

With each thrust, you could feel yourself coming closer to the edge. The walls of your pussy pulsed around his length, tightening in anticipation. The sensation drove Pedro crazy and he cursed, pressing his forehead to yours. He was starting to sweat as you ran your nails up his back. The muscles under his taut skin rippled and shone under the candlelight. You weren't sure when it would happen, but you imagined he would cum soon. You were, after all, coming close to orgasm again as well, and the moans and cries you pushed from your lungs were escalating quickly.

The tautness in your tummy that had preceded your last orgasm built again and you knew a few more thrusts would take you over the brink. Pedro recognized this as well, and you could tell he was doing his best to hold back, to let you go over before he released as well. And then that final thrust came, the catalyst that broke the damn, and you cried out as a white light seared your vision and you tossed your head back in euphoria. Pedro continued to thrust, riding out your orgasm and pulling you over the edge. And then he pulled out, barely at the last moment, cumming across your stomach and thighs, spurting the heat of his orgasm with the same ferocity with which he'd fucked you. The two of you panted, sweaty and hot and completely drained.

"Is there anything better than this?" you whispered, head still tilted back from the pleasure radiating through your body.

Pedro chuckled, pressing a kiss to your exposed throat and then nibbling tenderly at your chin. "Trust me, next time it'll be even better."

Next time? He was already thinking of a next time? Oh fuck, you could go for round three already just hearing him talk that way. 

\---

You looked once more into the contents of your cup before gulping back your disgust and knocking the liquid back. You gagged at the taste and it took all your self-control to stop yourself from instantly throwing the tonic back up. It had been a while since you'd made this specific tonic and you'd nearly forgotten how horrible it was. Quickly, you ducked your head under the kitchen faucet, taking a big gulp of water directly from the source to try to wash the vomit flavor away.

It worked a bit.

When you stood up straight, Pedro was standing in the doorway, eyeing you suspiciously. He picked up the now empty cup from the table and gave it a sniff, only to gag involuntarily himself.

"What the hell? Why would you drink this?"

Your tastebuds were finally starting to recover. "It's the most disgusting thing on this planet but also the most effective birth control I can make. You win some you lose some."

Pedro's eyebrows shot up in shock. For once you had him speechless instead of the other way around. 

"See you tonight," you said, giving him a quick wink and leaving him astounded in the kitchen. You had errands to run with Maria and you couldn't keep her waiting much longer, but that little moment, knowing you'd overpowered Pedro with your words, gave you a boost of much-needed confidence.

The market was busier than normal today. The weather was on the warm side, a tease of spring in what had felt like an endless winter. But the bustle of activity was more than could be explained by a warm spell, so you asked Maria if something special was happening. 

"The Full Moon Festival," she explained. "We celebrate the week of the second full moon each year to signify the coming spring. It used to involve a more religious aspect. Now, people just party every night and eat all day."

"Are you celebrating?"

"We'll all go to the Full Moon Party. It's happening next Friday. I'm surprised Pedro hasn't told you about it," Maria said. "It's nothing special, but it's a good opportunity to see old friends and it's generally expected that everyone attends."

A Full Moon Party? You had planned to use the night to work on some charms that needed the full strength of the moon to be successful. You tried to use this as an excuse to skip the festivities, but Maria would hear none of it. 

"Don't worry, you can borrow some of my things," she said. Looking nice was not your worry. You just hated crowds, especially since... Well, better not to dwell on painful memories. 

Still thinking about how you might back out of the party, you approached your favorite stall. Señora Hernandez was back with her spread of breads and pastries, which gave off the most delicious scent of yeast and sugar. Though you usually negotiated prices with the other vendors, even going so far as to manipulate some of the men into giving you things for free, you never worked your powers over Señora Hernandez. Her loaves were always worth the price and the sweet woman deserved every cent.

When she saw you, a big smile spread over her face and she greeted you by name. "What can I interest you in today? Something sweet? Something savory?"

"Hello, Señora, I'll just have the regular." The old lady began wrapping two large loaves in paper for you. 

"Oh, and before I forget, I made you something, a tea, actually." You passed a small paper bag with your special herbal mixture across her stand. "I noticed you were having some pain in your left hip. Drink this every night for the next three days and I promise the pain will be gone."

The woman looked up at you and at the bag you held out to her. You had yet to offer your healing services to a stranger in this town, but you felt Señora Hernandez might be the right one to start with. And she deserved it the most as well. 

Hesitantly, she took the tea. And then she spoke. "You are one of them?" she questioned. You weren't sure what to say, how to respond. But then she smiled.

"It has been many years since we had a healer. My sister-" Here she paused, momentarily unable to speak. "My sister was like you. Be careful, child."

You nodded in understanding. Be wary of who you offer your magic to, she implied.

"I must pay you back for this kindness," the Señora said. You tried to refuse, but she wouldn't hear of it, instead selecting for you a small crescent-shaped cookie that looked to be covered in powdered sugar. "Try this. For the full moon."

You thanked her, paid for the bread, and then hurried on to catch up with Maria who was negotiating the price of a head of cabbage.

"This measly thing can't be worth more than ten cents," she was saying angrily, managing to keep her cool but losing it more with every second. She was right; the leaves of the cabbage were wilting and sad, but the vendor wouldn't budge from his twenty.

Time to interject. "Ten cents," you said. "That's what we'll pay."

You didn't particularly like the way your voice sounded when you had to use your words to manipulate like this, but it worked like a charm. Sold, and Maria could move on.

"It's very convenient of you to do that, but it makes me nervous," she whispered as you walked away.

"I would never do it to you," you replied, suddenly worried she was afraid of you.

"No, I know you'd never. But what if they find out?"

You didn't really have an answer to that. So you just shrugged. 

"You need to be more careful," Maria said, and left it at that. 

\---

You and Pedro shared a quiet dinner that night. Usually, you could fill the silence with chatting, but today it felt nice to simply sit in silence. Pedro had taken to moving his chair so that he sat at a diagonal to you, rather than directly across. He liked to touch your knee with his hand as he ate, and you weren't going to protest.

After dinner, you brought out the crescent-shaped cookie and offered Pedro half.

"Where did you get this?" he asked. 

"The bread stand. She gave it to me for free." Pedro chuckled. "What's so funny about that?" you questioned.

"Only that this is a wedding cookie."

It was your turn to laugh. "She said it was for the full moon festival."

"Well, yes, but it comes with a tradition," Pedro explained. "When you bake a batch, you add a bean to the batter. One cookie will always have the bean, and whoever eats it is the next to get married. They're served on all occasions, weddings, festivals."

"Well, let's hope there's no bean then," you said with a laugh. So why were you a little disappointed when neither of you spit a bean out after each taking a bite? "Are you going to the party? The Full Moon Party?"

"I should. I guess." Pedro looked like he wanted to go just as much as you. Which was to say not at all. "You know, it would be better with you there."

You couldn't help but smile. Maybe going to a party didn't seem so bad after all. Your stomach did little flips like a schoolgirl being given a rose from her secret admirer. Why did you feel shy all of a sudden? It was the sort of intimacy old friends or life-long lovers had, not the fleeting connection of an accidental meeting. That's all you really were, two ships who happened to pass in the night. You barely knew Pedro, and yet he wanted to take you to parties and touch your knee at dinner. 

Pedro stood from the table and shook you from your reverie. "Did you still want to take a bath tonight? I can heat up some water."

God, he was a sweetheart. No more than ten minutes later, you were easing into the tub in the kitchen, the water a perfect temperature to soothe the ache of the day in your bones. Pedro had disappeared to give you some privacy, though at this point it wasn't anything he hadn't seen yet.

Quickly, you washed your hair and then lay back to soak. The light of the fire danced across your skin in mesmerizing patterns, hypnotizing your gaze and nearly sending you to sleep. However, the quiet sounds of movement shook you awake, and you looked over your shoulder to see Pedro standing silently in the door. You watched one another for a moment before you spoke.

"Are you going to join me or just watch?" you said softly.

Pedro shrugged. "Either works for me."

You motioned him over and he began to strip, pulling his shirt off first, his pants following soon after. Perhaps it was the heat of the tub or the light of the fire, but you felt emboldened to watch his every movement, the flex of his arms, the softness of his stomach, the trail of hair that your eyes followed downward as he slid off his underwear. There he stood, on full display, before you. The shyness you had felt earlier in the evening fully dissipated and you took in the sight of his member, long and thick, unabashedly. 

You slid forward in the tub and he gently eased down into the water behind you, careful not to spill any. He sat with his legs around yours so you could lean back again against his chest. The position was surprisingly comfortable, and Pedro was tall enough to rest his chin on top of your head. 

You snuggled deeper into his warm embrace, steam rising to envelop you in a cloud. As you moved, your ass rubbed against his cock, and Pedro let out a choked breath. It hadn't been on purpose, but now that you knew what influence you had, you weren't going to stop. You dropped your hands beneath the water and placed them on his knees, rubbing slowly up and down the length of his thighs. 

"Is this the game you want to play tonight?" he asked into your ear. When you didn't respond, Pedro placed each of his large hands on your breasts, giving them a squeeze and eliciting a gasp from you. You dropped your head back to his shoulder as he pinched and teased your nipples, twisting them into hard peaks. Pedro's lips pressed to your temple and stayed there, even when he spoke.

"Tell me what you want tonight," he said in a hushed tone. "Use your words. I want to hear that pretty little mouth of yours talking dirty." You shuddered under his touch and he took that as a confirmation to keep going. "Tell me, mi vida. Tell me."

What were you supposed to say? You didn't even know what you wanted. You'd never felt such pleasure before, how did you ask for more? All you could do was try. 

"I want-" His hands were still kneading your breasts and that made it hard to focus. "I want you to touch me the way you did last night with your mouth. But- But with your fingers."

"You mean like this?" One hand left your chest and slid down your stomach. That simple movement already left you trembling at his touch, even before his fingers found your clit.

"Yes, yes, like that," you panted out. Your hands gripped his thighs as you squirmed. But then suddenly, he stopped. "What are you doing?" The disappointment dripped from your voice.

"You didn't tell me to keep going. Tell me what you want and I'll do it. You're in control."

"Well, fuck, keep going." Pedro's fingers started up again, slowly drawing circles around your clit but never quite touching it. Was he really following your every instruction? Only one way to find out. 

"Smaller circles," you breathed. And smaller circles he made. Oh yeah, this was good. He still danced around that sweet spot, but the sensation was amazing, building you up slowly rather than racing you over the finish line. "A little faster. Not too much, just-" The rest of your sentence came out as a moan. He hit the perfect pace and held there, no change, as the tension built right up to the edge but never took you over.

How long could you hold yourself there, just on the precipice of orgasm but never quite going over the edge? It was like a game over which you controlled every move, creeping forward before backing off again. You let Pedro's strong fingers stroke you for what felt both like an eternity and no time at all. The sensation was simply too good to leave just yet and you want to revel in this phenomenon.

"Are you teasing yourself?" Pedro asked, suddenly aware of what you were trying to do.

"Shut up," you replied, and he did. Instantly. The power you held, over his actions, over your own orgasm, drove you crazy. But you wanted to see how long you could last right here, in this place. So, you took a deep breath and reeled your pleasure back from the edge of the cliff again. 

There was one more thing you wanted to try, something you knew would take you all the way when you were ready to let go. 

"Keep going, but with this hand," you tapped the one still caressing your nipples, "two fingers. Two fingers inside me."

He obeyed, easing two long fingers into your throbbing cunt. They didn't move, but that's what you wanted. They weren't something meant to get you there. You were ready to do that yourself as soon as you let go. No, you wanted something to cum on.

With one more deep breath, you focused on the tension in your core and then let go. Your release hit in one giant wave and you came hard, jolts of electricity originating from your clit and shooting through your body. Even as the first wave was dissipating, you clenched around his fingers and came again, somehow finding release twice in a row, two orgasms back to back. 

Pedro had been completely silent the whole way, per your request, but now he swore at the sensation of you cumming in his arms and all over his hand. His visceral reaction made you feel powerful and confident of your own sexuality. You'd never felt so in control as you did now. 

"You were right," you said as your body finally calmed and your heartbeat steadied. 

"About what?"

"It does get better every time."


	7. You Are My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger danger. And parties.

The night came. You didn't have anything nice to wear so Maria lent you a gown. The dress she offered you was simple but elegant. It had no frills or laces, but the smooth satin was dyed a vibrant red that accentuated the color of your eyes and the pigment of your skin. 

"You look stunning, cariño," Maria said, making final adjustments and smoothing the neckline. "Pedro is going fall head over heels in love if he hasn't already." 

You blushed nearly as red as the dress. You had yet to tell anyone about the nightly activities you and Pedro had been participating in, but nothing could be hidden from the perceptive Maria.

"It's not like that," you tried to explain.

"Oh, it's not? So his puppy dog eyes and the following you around and insisting upon making you dinner, that's just friends being friendly? Maybe I need to get my eyes checked."

Maria's words made your heart race and the thought of Pedro seeing you in this dress brought heat to your cheeks. You still hadn't managed to decipher your own feelings on the matter, let alone come close to understanding his. You could tell you were starting to become attached. No, attached wasn't a strong enough word. Dependent. Dependent upon his comforting company and the soft smiles he offered you when you were stressed. 

But what about him? For days, you had been analyzing his every word and action, trying to determine if he felt the same as you. It was useless.

"You don't think it's too revealing?" you asked Maria, gesturing toward your cleavage. Her only response was a look that said "be quiet and wear the damn thing."

Finally relenting, you left the bedroom in search of Pedro to see if he was ready. He was in the sitting room, lacing up his boots. Though he wore something only slightly less disgruntled than he normally looked, the sight of him dressed up to take you out made your stomach do summersaults. You were glad to see he had failed to reign in his tousled hair and forgone shaving altogether. The rugged look suited him. 

He glanced up as you walked in. "Ready to-" The sight of you stopped him in his tracks. "Oh, wow." 

Pedro closed his eyes for a moment and groaned. "Dios mío, can we just stay in for the night? We don't need to go, we can just stay here and-"

You stopped him before he could convince you of whatever it was he wanted to do instead. "Come on, we have an obligation to attend. And you look so nice. We can't waste your one bath a week."

Pedro laughed at your teasing. He took your hand and spun you around to get a look from every angle, then pulled you into his arms. 

"You look stunning, mi vida," he whispered before placing a kiss on your jaw, just below your ear. You figured he would pull away and finally lead you to the carriage waiting outside, but he kept going, placing kisses along your jawline, on the point of your chin, down your throat, and across your now heaving breasts. You giggled at the sensation of his scruffy face across the soft skin of your chest and gently slapped away his hands which were starting to pull the fabric of your skirt up over your knees.

"We really have to go, Pedro." He huffed in response, gave you one last kiss, and led you outside, finally, into the waning evening light, where the full moon was out and shining in her full glory.

The town banquet hall was already loud and crowded when you arrived. All the people made you nervous and you were starting to think maybe Pedro had had the right idea to stay home. You turned toward him for reassurance. Instantly, Pedro knew you felt uncomfortable with all the people around, and he placed a gentle hand on your back to guide you through the crowds. His hand, always in contact with you in some way, provided you with the stability and comfort you needed to actually enjoy socialization. 

The two of you made the rounds, introducing and saying hello and making necessary small talk. This wasn't the first time you had been in public together, and it certainly wasn't the first that people were hearing of you, but to accompany him to a social engagement was similar to a marital engagement in many people's eyes. They began to question and whisper to one another, wondering if a wedding was on the horizon. You tried not to let it bother you, seeing as Pedro was indifferent to their murmurs and gossip. But the instability of your feelings was starting to get to you. What did you want from him and where was this going? Thoughts about him recycled over and over in your head. You had always expected this to be a temporary arrangement, one to appreciate until you were recovered enough to move on and make your way on your own again. And yet, everyone here was so intent upon guessing your future, it made you feel dizzy. As the night wore on and the intoxication in the room slowly increased, some even got bold enough to ask you directly.

Pedro had left you for a moment on one of the many coaches to grab you a drink. Having noticed you were now conveniently left alone, a woman you recognized from Maria's knitting group but didn't know the name of sat down in the spot next to you.

"So, are you two courting? Or is he still an available bachelor," she said with a wink. "Because I could flirt with him all night if he let me, you know." She giggled boldly, only serving to make you more uncomfortable than before. 

You didn't know how to respond. "I'm not sure," you said finally, "you'll have to ask him that yourself."

"Look, I'm not saying you need to grab him up quick but... Well, I am. There are plenty of other women here who want him just as much." The young woman's demeanor had turned nasty quickly, and you suspected the drink in her hand wasn't helping. You had to leave.

"Excuse me, I think I need to use the restroom," you said politely, before fleeing in the direction you hoped Pedro had gone. Apparently, you chose the wrong direction, because you found yourself utterly and completely lost in the swarm of people mingling, dancing, and in some cases, falling over one another flirtatiously. 

Someone noticed the lost look on your face and placed a gentle hand on your elbow. "Need some help?" a voice asked.

"Yes, I seem to have lost my friend, he was just getting me a drink and-"

"Hey, you're the girl they found on the beach, right?" The man that stood before you was eyeing you inquisitively.

"Yes, that's me."

The man stuck his hand out and introduced himself. "I'm Sebastian."

Sebastian seemed nice enough, so you introduced yourself in return. When you offered your hand, though, he kissed your knuckles instead of shaking your hand. You nearly recoiled at this touch but held still out of politeness. 

"You don't look like you're enjoying yourself very much."

You laughed awkwardly at his straightforwardness. "No, I don't really like crowds very much. You're never alone, but so lonely at the same time. Not necessarily my idea of fun."

"Would you care to dance? Then at least you wouldn't be lonely."

You were taken aback. Dance? That was the last thing you wanted to do with anyone, especially someone you didn't know well. You were in the middle of contemplating lying and saying you had a broken ankle when a familiar voice caressed your ears.

"Is this scoundrel bothering you, señorita?" Pedro's voice was rough but you could hear the laughter underneath. Apparently, he and Sebastion knew one another. 

"Don't tell me you're here to steal my dancing partner again, Pedro," Sebastian joked. Again?

"She doesn't want to dance with a rascal like you," Pedro said with a smile, handing you your long-awaited drink. "Sebastian is one of my old schoolmates," he explained, giving him a hearty pat on the back.

"You know, everyone is surprised to see you here tonight, Pedro. It's been so long since you came out to play we'd thought someone had finally domesticated you and forced you to settle down." Sebastian was laughing, but you felt that Pedro was now the one feeling uncomfortable in this situation. Was he a big flirt or something, and had never told you? Sebastian continued to poke fun at him. "So which one of these ladies is it going to be that you finally bed and make your wife?"

Pedro flinched visibly. His hands had remained in his pockets for most of the conversation, holding back from touching you. But with Sebastian's words, something overtook him, and the possessive switch inside of him flipped. He had to make sure Sebastian, and everyone else in the room, knew you belonged to him.

"You want to know who I've decided to bed?" he growled. You loved when his voice took on that authoritative tone and it sent chills down your spine. What impulsive action was Pedro about to take, you wondered. Suddenly, one hand came out of his pocket to grasp your chin firmly and turn your face toward his. And then he kissed you passionately, right on your lips, for all the world to see. And so the secret was out.

Oh, God. Oh. God.

The message came across loud and clear, that in this moment he'd chosen you, but Pedro continued to kiss you, and the world started to melt away from your eyes and ears. That familiar longing, the feeling of wanting to stay like this forever but knowing one day it would end, began to build in your chest. But Sebastian cleared his throat and brought the both of you back to the present.

"Alright, message received," he said. "Good for you brother, it was about time." Sebastian nodded a goodbye toward the both of you and then disappeared into the crowd to try his luck with some other unfortunate girl.

For a moment, you were stunned into silence by the kiss. But only for a moment. "Why did you do that?" you hissed. "Now everyone will know."

Pedro shrugged. "Maybe I want them to know." He gazed down at you with a deep caring in his eyes, which seemed to say that not only did he want the world to know you belonged to him, but that he belonged to you as well. 

Fuck. Was this an answer?

\---

The rest of the evening only became more difficult after that. It wasn't that you had to deal with awkward conversation or embarrassing introductions. It was that after such a display of affection, you couldn't rip Pedro's clothes off right then and there and fuck him into oblivion. 

Your feet were getting tired, which you told Pedro dejectedly. He was in the middle of a conversation, but he managed somehow to steer the group over to a set of chairs to continue their talk in comfort. As he patted the spot next to him on the couch, you sat heavily, accidentally squishing his hand in the process. But when you shifted to allow him to move his hand, he didn't. He kept it in place and pinched your backside as if to say he wanted you there.

You weren't sure what his intentions were, but you knew they couldn't have been innocent. Feeling it might be in your best interest, you lifted your skirts and spread them out across the coach, disguising exactly where his hand was. From anyone else's perspective, it would have simply appeared that his arm was wrapped around your waist. Only you knew that he was now caressing the flesh of your ass with one of his large hands. 

You could barely hold back your gasps of arousal. You leaned heavily against Pedro's shoulder, feigning exhaustion, but really using the movement to angle your pelvis to give him better access. Pedro made no acknowledgment of your shifting posture; he simply continued his conversation with the couple sitting across from you two, discussing crop yields and the anticipated rains of the spring. But secretly, his fingers were working their way down your ass toward your now slick entrance. Tantalizingly slowly, they parted your lips and stroked the wetness between your legs. Thank God to past you for deciding to forgo bloomers tonight. As one finger finally entered your quivering cunt, you bit down on your lip, hard, to stifle a moan. 

Pedro took one of your hands in his free one, lacing your fingers together to give you something to grip other than the edge of the couch. He was now tracing slow circles around your clit, lazily tipping you towards the edge. Your eyes closed heavily at the sensation and it took all of your strength to prevent your head from falling to your chest.

Suddenly, the woman seated across from you said your name. Your head snapped up instantly, afraid she had caught you.

"Are you alright?" she said gently. "You look very tired."

A close call. You smiled back at her. "Yes, it's been a long night. I could use some sleep," you said, and though you faced her, your words were directed at Pedro. You wanted to go home, but not for sleep. 

"Perhaps we should retire for the night," her partner said, standing. You and Pedro followed, and finally, he seemed to be in agreement. The two men shook hands and Pedro guided you away. You were nearly at the exit when he pulled you aside and into an empty restroom, locking the door behind you.

"What are you doing? I thought we were going home," you said with urgency.

"Not before I get a taste," Pedro growled. And in one swift movement, he had you propped up on the basin of the sink and was lifting your skirts. His mouth came down on you hungrily and began to eat you out as if he had been starving for days.

One hand tangled in his hair as the other gripped the porcelain basin and you moaned at the intense sensation of his mouth fucking you straight towards heaven. Your clit was already tender and aching from his attentive fingers and it didn't take much for him to bring you back to the edge upon which you had been waiting on the couch. His tongue flicking over your clit elicited from you another moan, this time much louder. Instantly, a big hand came up and covered your mouth tightly.

"I want the world knowing you're mine, but only I get to hear that sound," Pedro said. Goddamn, his possessiveness was sexy. Soon, he had you writhing and convulsing on the basin of the sink, doing your best to hold back your screams of pleasure. Moments later, Pedro's mouth was reducing you to a puddle, sucking your orgasm from you until nothing was left. Your legs trembled with exhaustion at the intensity of the experience and you felt sure you might melt straight down the drain you were sitting on.

When Pedro stood and kissed you, the sweetness of your orgasm lingered on his tongue. "You're so lucky you get to taste me," you said.

"I am," he said with a groan.

"When's it my turn?"

"Oh, mi vida, don't tempt me," Pedro said, helping you off the sink. "Maybe we make home first before we try that."

"Or I try in the carriage." He shook his head with a laugh. "Just a taste?" you asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

Pedro's only answer was to steer you quickly out of the restroom and into the waiting carriage. He helped you in first and then followed, nearly suffocating you with kisses as soon as you were seated. He rapped with his fist on the roof of the carriage and it lurched into motion, the two of you falling upon one another, unable to keep your hands to yourself. 

Your hands found their way down his chest, one gripping his shirt tightly, the other beginning to palm the bulge in his pants. Pedro groaned into your mouth. You knew you didn't have much time, the ride was less than ten minutes, but you liked the challenge and half the work was already done for you. 

Pedro barely seemed to notice you had unbuttoned his pants until your hand slipped in, gently releasing his throbbing cock from its confinement. Your hand was dry, but a single stroke had him cursing against your lips. 

Pedro was reluctant to release your mouth, but you pushed him away, forcing him to lean back in his seat. Spitting into your hand, you gave his thick shaft another stroke, sending him into a frenzy. You leaned down and ran your tongue across the head of his cock, licking away the precum from the tip, salty and slightly earthy. Pedro's hips bucked and his hand flew to your hair, all but verbalizing his sudden need for your mouth around his cock.

So you obliged. You sunk down around him, tongue dragging along the underside of his shaft and hands caressing his twitching balls. You started out slowly, but the delicious moans of ecstasy heaving from Pedro's lips quickened your movements. The hand in your hair set the pace, rhythmic and consistent until he began to approach climax. 

Pedro groaned your name. "I- Gonna cum- " He tried to have you sit up, not wanting to defile that pretty mouth of yours by cumming inside. But you wanted to taste him, suck the orgasm from him the way he had done for you. You sunk your head further around his shaft, forcing his cock to the back of your throat. You felt like you were about to choke, but it did the trick, and he came swift and hot in your mouth as he growled out your name. You kept going, drawing the last drops from him, doing your best to swallow every bit of his salty load.

When you sat up, Pedro was leaning back heavily in his seat, eyes drooped shut, mouth open. You giggled and wiped your lips with the back of your hand, rubbing away the cum that had spilled out of your mouth and down your chin.

"Fuck, you weren't playing around," he finally said, opening his eyes to look at you. "Come here."

You leaned in and he kissed your chin, licking away what you had missed. 

It was ecstasy until suddenly, the carriage came to a stop. You were home, and in record time apparently. Pedro righted himself as you sat up, ready to open the door and sprint inside as fast as you could. But a hand on yours halted your movement.

"What's wrong?" you asked, but Pedro simply put a finger to his lips, signaling for you to be quiet.

"I don't think we're home yet," he said in a whisper. Now sitting in silence, you could hear voices speaking loudly outside the carriage, not quite yelling but certainly loud enough to sound distressed.

Pedro motioned for you to wait and then he stepped out and shut the carriage door behind him. You couldn't hear what he was saying, but it sounded urgent. A moment later, the door opened again and this time Pedro motioned for you to join him. 

"Come on," he said sternly, the lightheartedness in his voice suddenly gone. As you stepped out of the carriage, you noticed it was surrounded by men, most of them hidden by shadow. One held a torch high above his head, illuminating his angry face. 

"What's going on, Pedro?" you whispered, gripping his arm and staying close to his side. Anxiety was bubbling in your chest, threatening to overtake your throat and choke your breath. Who were these people and what did they want?

"Who's she?" the man holding the torch asked, pointing directly at you.

"This is my wife," Pedro replied without hesitation. "We were just coming back from the party."

The man eyed you warily. "Pretty thing. She look like that witch to you?" he asked one of his cronies with a sneer. The air froze in your lungs and you wanted to vomit, knowing instantly that they were after you. But it was wonders what real meals and a fancy dress could do to one's appearance. The other man shrugged, saying he didn't recognize you, and though the leader still looked suspicious of you, he relented. 

"Go on then," he said, and you scrambled as fast as your feet could carry you back into the carriage. It was only when it began to move again that you realized you were shaking. Pedro held your hands tightly, but it was no use. The panic had set in.

"They were looking for me, weren't they." 

Pedro nodded silently, his eyes burning with anger and possibly a bit of fear. 

"They have a bounty. Pinned on your head. Fuck." Pedro was now fuming, barely held back from flying into a rage.

"Pedro, they're going to kill me. They're going to turn this place upside down looking for me, and once they've found me, they'll come back and kill you too." You could barely breathe, tears beginning to prick your eyes and sobs wracking your body. "You should have handed me over. Saved yourself. I'm not worth all of the trouble that's coming."

The look of absolute bewilderment on Pedro's face stunned you into silence. 

"Handed you over?" he hissed. "And saved myself? What kind of bullshit do you think that is? Your life is worth every bit of anyone else's in this town and I'll be damned before I let anything happen to you, do you understand? If anyone so much as thinks about laying a hand on you, they're losing the hand."

The intensity of Pedro's answer shocked you. He didn't owe you anything. In fact, it was the exact opposite. And here he was ready to defend you with his life. 

"We need to do something. Mateo will have a plan. He better be home already."

"Pedro, listen to me," you tried to plea. If he got caught in the crossfire and hurt, or even worse, killed, because of you, you would never forgive yourself. "You don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything. Please, don't risk your life for me."

You had finally arrived home, and Pedro was already climbing from the carriage, ready to find Mateo and fight like his life depended on it. Because it did. At your words, Pedro turned to you, holding you steady by the shoulders. He looked you in the eyes, worried by determined.

"Mi vida," he said, all of a sudden soft and gentle, "don't you understand? You are my life. And I will fight for it."


	8. I Thought You Were Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your past catches up. How much are you willing to sacrifice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... sorry but no sexy times in this chapter. Had to get some plot points moving along and also needed some angsty sad Pedro. But big things are happening.

You paced back and forth in the kitchen. Outside, Mateo and Pedro were guarding the doors, and though you knew it was to keep those men out, it felt more like you were being kept in. Pedro had not let you get involved in whatever plan he was making to keep you safe, even though you felt entirely responsible for this situation. 

The pacing was only making your anxiety worse. You couldn't get your mind off of the danger you were putting everyone in, not just Pedro, but Mateo and Maria, as well as the whole town. Your thoughts flew to Señora Hernandez, who knew your secret. You didn't suspect she'd give you up willingly, but that only concerned you more. What might they do to the old women if they thought she could give them information?

It wouldn't take long for the bounty hunters to find their way to the farm; everyone in town knew you didn't belong here and those men would figure that out. If you were going to do something to protect the people who had rescued you, you would have to act quickly. A half-formed plan began to develop in your head and you rushed to the bedroom, knowing what you needed was in the trunk at the foot of the bed.

You threw open the trunk and began rummaging through its contents, mostly extra blankets and shirts. Pedro wasn't the most organized and he had a tendency to throw his not quite dirty clothes haphazardly in this trunk. "I'll wear them again," was his excuse. Though it was annoying to fish around his unfolded clothes, they did make for an excellent hiding spot. 

Finally, you found it, a small bundle of papers wrapped in a soft skin of leather. You hadn't told Pedro about them, not wanting to scare him with your bizarre rituals, but you had spent the last month establishing what you hoped was a strong bond to the perimeters of the property.

Unrolling the papers so they lay flat on the floor of the sitting room, you kneeled in front of the crude map you had drawn. The layout of the land was simple, Pedro's house on the west end, Mateo's and Maria's to the east, with the narrow road running between them. The stables, the fields, and the barn functioned as corner points of the property, and over the weeks you had worked to bury a charm on each corner. You weren't sure if this plan would work, but there wasn't another option.

Tracing your fingers along the lines of the map, you felt your fingertips begin to tingle. Each charm contained some part of you, from a hair pulled from your head to the healing magic of your fingers. You closed your eyes and focused, hands now flat against the papers on the floor, trying to feel the connection you had forged with the earth below. Outside, a strong wind was beginning to pick up, and you could no longer hear the voices of Pedro and Mateo above the rushing sounds of the air. Still, the hunters were coming, and you could feel their presence on the wind before they arrived. You had to hurry.

Above the farmhouse, clouds were beginning to gather. You were unaware of their presence, but Pedro noticed them as the light of the full moon suddenly went dark. The air felt charged with a strange electricity, and he wondered if it was meant to storm tonight. Still on your knees inside, Pedro was unaware that the strange weather was due in part to you. The full moon was giving you unprecedented strength and the connection between you and the land was starting to take hold.

The tingle of electricity that was building with the storm outside struck a balance within you, connecting you to the world around you and binding your power to it. You were unsure how much strength this ritual would take, but you would use whatever was necessary to protect your new family. It was worth the risk.

As you'd hoped, an image of the land spread out against your palms and behind the blackness of your closed eyes. Your plan was working. Every corner of the property, every stone, every blade of grass, every angle lay before you and under your control. Even the presence of Pedro and Mateo appeared to you, standing just outside the door of the house. If a single person stepped foot within the boundaries of the property, your grip would surround them and you would take them over. 

And so the storm came. The hunters approached, their stench on the wind. Mateo and Pedro turned to face them. You were unsure of what they planned to do. Fight them? Talk them down? Lie about who you were or where you were? It didn't matter. They wouldn't make it that far. 

The leader approached, the disgusting man who had held the torch to your face and called you a pretty little thing. Rage swelled in your chest as you remember his words, how he had struck fear into your heart. Beneath your palms, you felt his every movement, heard his every word, as if he were standing right in front of you. 

"Give her up," he shouted over the wind. "Give her up now and we'll think about not killing you for harboring a criminal."

The man took a step forward, unaware that even now the tendrils of your power were wrapping around his ankles and crawling up his legs. 

"Not an option," Pedro replied. What was he holding in his hand? It was hard to tell but you figured it was some type of weapon. Through your fingers, you could sense that he was holding back his fear, putting on a courageous front that seemed almost foolish in the face of danger. At least five other bounty hunters had gathered behind their leader. Did Pedro really think he could hold them all? Or had he simply accepted that if he was going down, he was going down with a fight?

There was no time to think about these things. The leader took another step forward. Or he tried to. But when he attempted to move, his feet wouldn't budge, feeling leaden and burdened as if by an infinite exhaustion. 

"What the fuck?" he tried to shout, but it came out as a whisper, his voice too tired to carry. The clench of your fingertips had reached his throat, strangling the sound before it even formed. In a panic, the leader found himself unable to hold his own weight and fell to his knees in pain, his strength and will disintegrated. Hidden inside, you felt him collapse, felt the surge of his strength leave his body and enter the earth beneath him. Behind him, his men rushed forward to his aid, a grave mistake. They were entering your circle, crossing the boundary you had built, falling into your grasp. Like a spider sensing prey in her web, you attacked, the tendrils of your power finding their mark, electrifying the air and the ground below. And one by one they fell, not having even reached the door, their screams of pain fading into whispers on the wind.

Pedro's reaction was delayed by shock. As he watched the men drop like flies, he stumbled back involuntarily, unaware that whatever supernatural force was electrifying the air around him and causing the chaos before him would never hurt him in a million years. He turned to Mateo, who was equally as appalled, and shouted over the wind.

"What the fuck?" His words echoed those of the fallen leader. Then the realization hit. Where were you?

Still on the floor, the force of the feat you had just accomplished had drained you more than any magic had ever before. You were unsure of what would happen if you released your hold on the earth. Would the men regain their strength? Would they stand and break down the door to kill you? How long could you maintain the bond? The wind outside was whipping the world into a frenzy, shaking trees and pounding against the windows of the house. Above, the clouds were thick and churning, spurring lightning to crackle and thunder the shake the earth. The control that you had maintained was beginning to slip, the power no longer under your control and simply at the whim of the world. The balance inside you shifted, and if you didn't end the connection soon, the consequences could be destructive.

But you couldn't let go. You couldn't will yourself to move, couldn't lift your hands from the floor or open your eyes. You barely noticed the door to the house slam open, barely noticed the flash of lightning that lit your figure on the floor, barely noticed your name being shouted over the gust of wind that swept through the house. 

It was then that you blacked out. 

\---

You opened your eyes. The wind had stopped, the clouds parted. Feeling tired but fulfilled, you stood from where you had fallen on the floor. In the doorway, Pedro stood, a look of panic and horror on his face. You tried to call out to him, to tell him you were alright, that everything was alright, but he didn't seem to hear you. In fact, he seemed to look right through you, even as you took a step toward him. He said your name again, this time softly, and you opened your arms to urge him into an embrace. Pedro rushed forward and you wrapped your arms around him. Only, he passed right through. 

What was happening? Pedro had looked right through you, walked right through you. Turning, you watched him fall to the floor next to a dark figure, a figure that looked vaguely like you. But you were here, standing. How were you on the floor as well?

Were you dead?

On the floor, you were curled into a ball, eyes closed and unmoving. A crackle of energy passed through your body, a lingering reminder of what had just happened. Pedro knelt next to your motionless body, gathering you into his arms and whispering your name over and over. But no matter how many times you called out, Pedro never looked up, never noticed that you were right there, trying desperately to touch him. 

It was eery, watching your own body die.

But you didn't want to die, not yet. Why was this happening? Had you overreached your capabilities, overworked to the point of death? Your heart broke at the sight of the man you cared so much for looking so desperate. You wanted to comfort him but your soul was no longer your own.

With the thought that this might be the end, you realized you didn't just care about Pedro. It was more than that now. His words from earlier in the evening came rushing back. 'You are my life,' he'd said. No, you didn't just care about your salvation, you loved him, with your whole heart. And now you'd never get to tell him. 

Pedro seemed to come to the same realization. Normally so strong and steady, he fell apart, breaking down over your lifeless body. 

Apparently, Mateo had gone for Maria's help, and the two came running in, but what was there to be done? Maria's fingers pressed to your neck, finding your pulse. "She's still alive, but her pulse is weak. I don't know what we can do. I can't heal the way she does," she said.

All you could do was watch as Pedro's lips pressed against your limp hand, begging you to return. You tried to scream, to tell him everything you should have, but nothing came of your struggle. Your voice remained silent as he lowered you gently to the floor. Maria stood and stepped away, pulling Mateo away as well to give Pedro some space. Had he already accepted you were gone? But you were right here, if only you could--

With his hands on your face, Pedro placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. He leaned down, close to your ear, to tell you the one thing he wished he'd said earlier. 

"Te quiero, mi vida," he whispered. 

And finally, a kiss to your lips.

It felt as if someone had stabbed you in the chest. You gasped, sucking a much-needed breath into your lungs. How long had you gone without air? Your soul, which had been watching your death unfold in front of it, was thrust violently back into your body with the pain of a punch to the stomach. You weren't dead. Somehow, you weren't dead. You opened your eyes to a pair of teary brown ones.

Pedro cursed and immediately pulled you into his arms, squeezing you tightly. "I thought you were gone," he whispered.

'Me too,' you thought. But you didn't have the heart to tell him, let alone acknowledge that you'd watched his breakdown from afar. You simply held him close, comforted by his words. Not dead, you repeated over and over to yourself, reminding yourself to keep breathing, to keep living, to forget what had just happened. 

\---

You slept that night wrapped tight in Pedro's arms. He was afraid to fall asleep, fearing he might lose you if he let you out of his sight ever again. With arms around your waist, legs draped across yours, he tucked your head beneath his chin to hold every bit of you at one time. 

Pedro had yet to acknowledge the words he'd whispered into your ear as you were dying. You wanted to repeat them back, tell him you felt the same. Why did that make you so nervous? He probably thought you hadn't heard him. What if he wanted to keep it that way?

No, it was impossible to ignore your feelings anymore. You never wanted to kiss anyone else again, never wanted to be held by any other arms than these. Tonight had shown you that if you waited any longer it may be too late. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Pedro?" you asked, making sure he was still awake. He hummed in response. Now or never. 

"I love you, too."


	9. I Don't Need You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to our regularly scheduled programming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some warnings for this chapter. If the thought of babies/pregnancy/childbirth makes you uncomfortable, just skip down a little bit. It's not a big plot point, I promise.

Pedro had been in a sour mood all day, which was highly uncharacteristic of his normally happy, goofy self. You felt like you were tiptoeing around him, walking on eggshells to prevent what you presumed could be a catastrophic outburst of anger if you rubbed him the wrong way. He fretted and brooded throughout the morning, not speaking a word or acknowledging whatever had put him in this mood, though you suspected it had something to do with last night. But despite his attitude, he still would not let you out of his sight. When he had to head out to the barn to start some repairs, he dragged you along with him, even though he seemed more like he wanted to be left alone. 

But the sun was out, spring winked at you from behind the trees, and the day made for an easy recovery. Yesterday seemed so far away when the sun shone so brightly, yet the leaden feeling in your bones reminded you with every step of your near death. 

Pedro couldn't seem to shake the experience either, though he didn't mention it. You'd never seen him like this, so unwilling to talk, and it made you equally frustrated as worried. Was there something wrong? Had you done something wrong? Though you weren't conscious to witness the aftermath of your actions, it couldn't have been a pretty sight. The men were gone, though you didn't know where or how. Deep down, you suspected this wasn't the end of the fight.

And Pedro knew that as well. 

Last night, when you had finally told him the truth, that you loved him, he'd been surprisingly silent in his reply. Though you were tucked tightly to his chest, he somehow managed to pull you even closer, squeezing the air from your lungs and pressing a chaste but loving kiss to your forehead. 

After what felt like an eternity of silence, he had finally begun to speak.

"You heard all that?" he'd said, his voice wavering slightly.

"You did mean it, right?" The way he'd spoken suddenly had you worried that perhaps he hadn't meant it at all.

"Every word." His voice had barely risen above a whisper, but you felt it in your chest, loosening your heart and your worries. He loved you. He cared about you. He needed you. "Please don't ever scare me like that again."

You wanted to promise him, in return, that you wouldn't. But that wasn't a promise you could make. So you'd stayed silent and fallen asleep to the sound of his slowed breathing in tandem with your own.

In the morning, he awoke with worry lines on his forehead and a disheveled shadow of a beard. And the tension had begun.

It was outside, sitting in the grass, watching him saw aggressively at the boards he was using to fix the barn, that you saw the man approach. He came at you, nearly at a jog, surprising you with his sudden appearance. Something was wrong. No one ever came out this far to the farm, but he headed straight for you. Anxiety gripped your throat and the brief thought that he might be here to kill you flitted across your mind.

You called out to Pedro, who looked up, startled, and then suddenly angry and fearful. His eyes flitted to the house, calculating if he had enough time to lock you inside before whoever this intruder was, arrived. He opted instead to step in front of you, to place himself between you and the oncoming danger. Pedro's broodiness had made him feel inaccessible, but my god if his protectiveness didn't make you love him even more. "Stay back," he growled. 

The approaching man had almost made it to the barn, and he began to wave his arms in the air, signaling he wasn't here to harm anyone. "Please," he called out, "I need your help."

He jogged to where you were standing, trying to catch his breath after what appeared to have been a long run. Though he was obviously harmless, the silent brick wall of a man standing before you didn't budge.

"What do you want?" Pedro asked.

"My wife, she needs you. I heard you can heal her." The man was looking past Pedro, directly at you, pleading for your help. "The doctor says she won't make it through the delivery but I couldn't just do nothing. I've heard the rumors. I know what you can do. Please."

The look on the man's face tugged at your heart. You grabbed Pedro's hand, letting him know you were still relying on him to cover for you but stepped out so you could speak to the poor man directly.

"Your wife is having a baby?" He nodded. There was no question about it, you would help her. "Let me grab my things."

You turned toward the house but Pedro grabbed your hand to stop you. "What do you think you're doing?"

Though you knew he was just trying to look out for you, Pedro's words cut deep. He didn't want you performing any magic, fearing that it might harm you the way it had yesterday. But this is what you did. You helped people.

"They need me," you said forcefully, holding his gaze. It was hard to argue when his brown eyes looked at you with so much worry, but you knew what you had to do. Finally, Pedro's face softened slightly and he relented.

"Fine, but I'm coming."

You packed a bag quickly, bringing everything you thought you might need, and then followed the man to his house. It was small, barely two rooms, with cracking walls and dusty floors. It struck you how desperate they must be, to be willing to spend money on a doctor. Even though they were all quacks around here anyway.

Inside the small bedroom, a young woman lay in bed, sweaty, pale, and in distress. One arm was draped across her eyes as if she'd already given up and your heart clenched again. Pregnancy was difficult enough, but childbirth was an entirely different battle. You weren't sure what exactly you could do, especially in your weakened state, but you had to try. Kneeling beside the woman, you took her free hand and held it tightly.

"I'm here to help you," you said, and she uncovered her eyes. Though she looked concerned and a bit wary, she also seemed to recognize that she had no other options. 

"Something is wrong," she managed to say. "I can feel it."

Quickly, you ordered everyone out, including the doctor. The midwife you asked to stay. You didn't actually know how to deliver a baby, after all. You rummaged through your bag, looking for something to ease her discomfort and heal her from the inside out.

"Drink this," you said gently, offering the woman a small vile. "It will help the pain." She hesitated before tipping the vile back in resignation. At first, she grimaced in disgust, but a moment later the medicine began to take effect, and she settled more comfortably back against her pillow. 

Knowing at least the young mother would be alright, you had to find out what was wrong with the baby. You weren't sure if the trick you had performed on Pedro so many nights ago would work on others, but you had to try. Softly, you place a hand to the woman's stomach, willing the source of her pain to reveal itself to your palms. It was hard to tell if a second heart still beat within her, but you knew this was where the problem lay.

Turning to the midwife, you pulled her to the side and spoke in a hushed tone. "The baby may not be alive. But she has to deliver if she is going to survive. I'll do what I can, but you need to guide her from here."

And so she did. You held the young woman's hand until the baby arrived, blue and unresponsive as you'd predicted. The young thing did not cry or gasp but was quiet. A hopeless despair settled over the room, disquietingly silent.

You had one option left. You had practiced this many times before on Pedro to heal his blisters and fade bruises. Yet, it was impossible to know if it would work on such a tiny being on the brink of death. Taking the baby gently from the midwife's arms, you placed a hand over her chest. The familiar rush that you now recognized as accompanying the healing of a sore muscle or a scraped knee built in your hand. Would it be enough? Or was it too little, too late? 

And then a scream, a baby's scream, pierced the air, and the child took a ragged breath. 

\---

The young mother and baby were asleep when you left. You wanted nothing more than to do the same. As you prepared to leave, the man who had sought your help tried to press payment into your hand but you refused. It felt wrong to take his money. 

As you walked slowly home, you found yourself leaning more and more heavily on Pedro's arm. It wasn't far, but the dusty road seemed to stretch out endlessly ahead, elongated by the oncoming fatigue that followed healing with your hands. Pedro recognized your exhaustion, though he hadn't spoken a word, and he swept an arm under your legs to lift you up. The exhaustion was too much to handle, and he carried you home like that. You must have fallen asleep in his arms, because you didn't even notice being placed in bed until you woke up, several hours later. 

The light outside the bedroom was fading into twilight as you sat up in bed. Your stomach growled at the smell of food wafting through the house, and you remembered you hadn't even eaten lunch. But the nap had done you well; you felt more awake and rejuvenated than you had in a long time. Getting up to follow the delicious scent of stew, you found Pedro in the kitchen, making dinner. Though he didn't speak when you entered, he grabbed your hand and pulled you close as he cooked.

His brooding silence was starting to get to you. It was hard to tell what he was feeling, anger, sadness, stress. Or was he just tired? Whatever it was, it was starting to upset you. The normally expressive, bubbly man you loved was bottling everything up inside.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" you asked. You wanted to know what was going on in his head, what thoughts were making him act this way. 

"Nothing is wrong, mi vida." It was the first he'd used that nickname all day, but his voice was tense with an untamed anger. Was it anger at you?

"Don't lie to me, Pedro." You placed a hand on his shoulder, knowing your touch could ease the tension in his muscles, heal his pain--

"Stop," he said abruptly, pulling away from your touch. You stood in shocked silence. Had you done something wrong?

"Are you scared of me?" you asked accusingly. It was the only explanation for this sudden shift in behavior, that perhaps the display of the full extent of your powers had shut him out. You thought he liked the way you made him feel. You thought craved your touch. Had yesterday's events changed something in the way he saw you?

But the look he gave you made you immediately regret speaking those words. Through his eyes shown pain and worry, on his face was written only love. 

"No, mi vida, no. You could never scare me. You surprise me, you worry me, but you don't scare me." His words were vehement. You'd never heard him speak like this, with such angry conviction. Pedro took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to find the right words to say and tamp down the emotions that threatened to overflow. "But every time you heal someone, every time you heal me, it takes a piece of you. All you do is give your strength to others but you never stop to consider what it's doing to you. And it makes me angry, watching you give yourself away like that. Sometimes you have to put yourself first."

"So what are you saying, that I should not use my gift?"

"It's not a gift if it's killing you." His words were like a slap in the face, stinging your eyes and making your cheeks burn. But he wasn't even touching you. You'd pulled your hand away from his at his words, and though you faced one another, close enough to feel the heat of one another's radiating anger, you did not touch.

"You selfish bastard. This is who I am. And if you can't handle that part of me, you can't handle any of me."

Pedro grunted in frustration. It pissed you off that he was somehow mad at you for saving his life yesterday. But at least he wasn't holding it in anymore. "I'm not being selfish. I'm looking out for you," he said, his voice not quite at a yell but coming close.

What possessed you to say the next words that came out of your mouth, you weren't sure. But despite how thoroughly mad Pedro was making you, his serious concerns about your wellbeing and the tension that crackled between you two in the heat of the kitchen were making you feel flustered in the way that gave you butterflies in the pit of your stomach and made heat rise on your skin.

"I don't need you to look out for me. In fact, I don't need you at all." This was a lie, of course. You knew it, Pedro knew it, but he'd been so private about his feelings all day that you couldn't help it. You wanted him riled up, loud, upset, anything other than the intensity of his quiet anger. You liked that he was raising his voice, getting emotional, asserting his passion. So you poked at him again. "I have everything to lose without my healing. You, having nothing to lose."

The dam broke.

"Fucking hell, I love you! Isn't that enough?" Finally, a real outburst, his face so close to yours he could kiss you if he wanted to. An explosion that shut you up. There was nothing else to say because he was right. He was the one with everything to lose, and he was watching you take it day by day. His words should have broken your heart, but they only caused a sudden ache to form in your stomach, an ache for him touch you, to hold you, to--

But you were stubborn and you couldn't let him win like this. He couldn't have the last word. You lifted your hands, ready to force them against his chest and push him away to rid you of the aching need for him. But Pedro was too quick. He caught your hands with his own, right as they made contact with his chest, and held them there. His eyes burned with anger and his voice dropped to a rough whisper, harsh and ragged with passion. When he spoke, however, your breath caught in your throat and your heart fluttered, a sudden desire building in your stomach.

"You may not need me, but I need you."

You knew it wasn't the nicest thing to say, but that small outburst had you feeling something new. You wanted it again, wanted to feel his rage. His loud anger was much more preferable to his quiet anger. So you said the words you knew would pull that reaction from him again.

"I don't believe you."

The silence in the kitchen was deafening. Even the fire that warmed the room had gone quiet. Pedro stood so still, his face so close to yours but unmoving and stoic, it was impossible to tell exactly what he was feeling. Then suddenly, he let out a short laugh, shocking you. It was not the reaction you were expecting. The flames in his eyes still burned, but they now flickered with something other than rage.

"I know what you're doing." Uh oh. "You like this, don't you? You want me mad. It makes you feel something and you like it."

Your hands were still trapped by his, and you realized this position was not where you were your strongest. Pedro began to step forward, backing you up quickly until you felt the kitchen wall press against you. 

"Does my anger turn you on?" 

Yes, oh god yes. You realized in an instant that the way he towered over you, protective and domineering, was making your cheeks blush and heat pool between your legs. He had your hands in an iron grip, reassuring, grounding, and possessive. You couldn't speak.

"Tell me, mi vida, how do I make you feel?" he said roughly. He was still holding your gaze, and you were now trapped between him and the wall with no route for escape. You knew you should have been scared, scared by how intensely he was holding you, scared by how much bigger and stronger he was than you, scared by how angry he had been only moments ago. But you weren't. His voice was only sending shivers down your spine and causing an uncomfortable warmth to spread throughout your body. 

Fuck. Why did this display of emotion turn you on?

You didn't have the right words to answer him. You weren't sure of what you were feeling, but you knew that the ache between your legs that was slowly building could only be eased by him. So you stood on your toes, as high and as tall as you could reach, and you kissed him.

Pedro's hands instantly let go of yours. In one swift movement, he had his arms looped beneath your legs and he was holding you up against the wall, pressing every inch of his body to yours like he couldn't get enough. Your legs wrapped around his waist and your hands curled into his soft hair, crushing his lips to yours so you could taste the anger on his tongue. The scruff of his disheveled beard gave the harsh kiss an even rougher feeling, quickly drawing moans from your mouth and making you slick with need. Pedro tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth and cursed into your mouth when he elicited from you more cries of pleasure.

"You deserve to be punished for trying to make me angry like that," he growled into your ear as he moved you from the wall to the kitchen table.

"Don't pretend like you didn't like it," you shot back, knowing it would get under his skin. Instead of answering, he shut you up with another rough kiss, distracting you from the hand that slipped under your skirts and slid up your leg until he had a tight grip on your ass. You gasped in pleasure at the feeling of his fingers sinking into the tender muscle, rough and calloused against your soft skin. 

"Do you always go without underwear?" he growled into your ear before moving his lips to your throat.

"Only when I'm around you."

Pedro groaned in response against your neck. His tongue flickered out against your skin before you felt his teeth dig softly into the junction between your shoulder and neck. You arched your back at the deliciously painful sensation, pressing your body closer to his and asking wordlessly for more. A gentle kiss soothed the tender spot, sending you spinning. Your brain couldn't even form half a thought as you tilted your head to the side, giving him better access to do it again. You would probably wake up with bruises tomorrow, but you didn't care. You liked that he was marking you as his and his alone. 

It was intentional, the attention directed at your neck, and Pedro had again distracted you from the path his hand was taking until you felt two fingers slide into your throbbing cunt. A shocked cry left your lips that devolved into mewls of euphoria. The room spun as you gulped in air, trying to regain your breath. The heaving of your chest, constricted by the stays you had somehow managed to sleep in, was not lost on Pedro. He shamelessly eyed the way your breasts spilled from their confinement.

"Fuck, querida, you're so wet for me." Pedro dragged his hand out from between your thighs and licked his fingers, tasting the threads of you. He closed his eyes and groaned, thoroughly enjoying the mess he was making out of you. And you couldn't take your eyes off him, even when the calloused pads of his fingertips worked their way back into you, dissolving you again into rapid pants and moans. 

The obscene sounds you were producing only egged Pedro on, and he curled his fingers upward as he pulled them out of you. You cried out in pleasure again as he hit a sensitive spot, a sensation you'd never felt before. He slid his fingers inside you again, repeating the curling motion and earning more gasping moans from your lips. The walls of your cunt were starting to clench around his fingers and you gripped his shoulders tightly to maintain some sense of gravity. You knew if he kept this up you would be cumming in his hands in no time.

Instinctively, your head tilted back in pleasure, relishing in the relief of his attentions. But Pedro wanted you looking at him, watching him as he fucked you with his fingers. His free hand wrapped around your throat, forcing you to lift your head and lock your gaze with his.

"Don't take your eyes off me," he ordered. "I want to see the look on your face when I make you cum."

And you almost did with those words, right then and there. Almost. But a sudden knock at the door froze the two of you in your tracks. Pedro pulled away and you whimpered at the sudden loss of his touch.

"Don't move," he said. "And don't touch yourself either." You did as you were told.

You watched as Pedro left the kitchen, your vision swaying ever so slightly, but not obscuring the way he adjusted the crotch of his pants. Pedro opened the door and a soft voice spoke from outside. It sounded like Maria, asking if everything was okay, if you needed anything. 

"We're all good. She went to bed early, a long day you know." Oh yes, bed was certainly where you were. Then the door closed again with a soft click and you trembled in anticipation of the return of Pedro's touch.

So of course, he took his sweet time, gaze wandering over you, taking in the sight of you, still fully clothed but an emotional and physical wreck on the table. You had leaned back on your elbows, unable to hold yourself up without his shoulders to grab onto.

Pedro found his place again between your legs but still didn't touch you where you wanted to be touched. He leaned over, hands flat on the table on either side of your hips, his pelvis grazing yours. The bulge in his pants barely rubbed against your sensitive clit, but it was enough to make you twitch in anticipation. He didn't say anything, just watched you squirm with his intense gaze, and it was getting hard to bear. The ache in your core was desperate for a release that he was withholding from you. 

Was he waiting for you to speak? You broke the silence.

"Please, Pedro, I need you to touch me." Your words came out barely a whisper.

Pedro's eyebrows shot up as if hearing exactly what he'd wanted from you. Fuck.

"What was that?" he teased. "I didn't hear you the first time."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. "I need you to touch me. Now."

"Say that one more time. I don't think I caught it."

You knew what he was doing. Pulling the truth from you one unmoveable moment at a time. You were stubborn, but not that stubborn, and at last, you gave in.

"Fuck, Pedro, I need you. I need you and your fingers and your hand on my throat and every part of you, okay? Just, please--"

Pedro smiled, revealing the dimples on his cheeks. "That's what I thought."

In an instant, his hands were on you again as if they'd never left at all, one holding your chin as he kissed you deeply, the other curling in and out of your trembling core. "You're mine, querida," he growled as you came, all over his fingers and screaming his name.


End file.
